


After All These Years

by Sarasa_pen



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Bat!Dad, Batfamily, Blüdhaven, Breakups, Bruce Wayne - Freeform, Bruce Wayne Tries, Death, Dick Grayson - Freeform, F/M, Gotham, Gotham City - Freeform, Guns, Heartache, Jason Todd - Freeform, Make up sex, Nightwing - Freeform, Robin - Freeform, Sex, Shootings, Smut, Vigilante, batfam, break ups, but hes not the best, dc, dick - Freeform, dick/reader - Freeform, father bruce wayne, flatlining, gun shot wounds, injuries, jason - Freeform, past relationship, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22133002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarasa_pen/pseuds/Sarasa_pen
Summary: They were happy once. Then he went and fucked it all up.After 4 years of being apart, one week together makes Dick reevaluate his feelings for the reader.Smut is in chapter 2 if you wanna go straight to that.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Reader
Comments: 17
Kudos: 168





	1. Chapter 1

**Each of these characters will (eventually) be in the story. The images wouldn't work so the links will have to do instead.**

**I know everyone has their own personal opinions on what each of the characters look like, but this is what I imagine when I write:**

**Alfred Pennyworth** **  
****  
**[Sean Pertwee](https://allstarbio.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/Sean-Pertwee-Bio-Net-worth-Height-Body-Girlfriend-Affair-Married-Ethnicity.jpg)

**Bruce Wayne** **  
****  
**[Ben Affleck](https://pmcdeadline2.files.wordpress.com/2019/11/ben-affleck.jpg?w=681&h=383&crop=1) (His character in the movies sucked; I know, but he's the only guy I imagine as old!Dad!Bruce when I write these fics)

**Dick Grayson** **  
****  
**[Brenton Thwaites](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/marvel_dc/images/0/06/Brenton_Thwaites_Mug.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/340?cb=20190119003521)

**Jason Todd** **  
****  
**[Matthew Daddario](https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/684852820332380160/OgbsPy-u.jpg)

**Tim Drake** **  
**

********[Ryan Potter](https://aumag.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/Ryan-Potter.jpg) (I know he's beast boy but he was Tim Drake in my heart before Titans came out) ****

**Damian Wayne** **  
****  
**[David Mazouz](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BMGQwOWJiMzAtMmU1MS00YTVlLTllNTgtMWU5YWZhYTkyYzhjXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjE4NDc4MDU@._V1_SY1000_CR0,0,666,1000_AL_.jpg)

**Selina Kyle** [**  
**Kristen Stewart](https://media4.s-nbcnews.com/j/newscms/2019_18/2841816/190501-kristen-stewart-al-1025_aa08ab46480fd6aff1fd6e3be2534eec.fit-760w.jpg)

**Barbara Gordon**

[Elyse Dufour](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/walkingdead/images/1/1a/Elyse_Nicole_DuFour.png/revision/latest?cb=20161211182658)

**Stephanie Brown**

[Lili Reinhart](https://media.glamour.com/photos/59ef402b017a263f7ded2f8a/6:7/w_2141,h_2498,c_limit/lili-reinhart-reccs-getty.jpg)

**Cassandra Cain**

[An YueXi](https://forums.soompi.com/applications/core/interface/imageproxy/imageproxy.php?img=https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/UROALjjESuve-yI4iRDe-v5_zbd7EXDL-k54k1uFOTAsUbP3SFlA7mNS0lVYCWY5zol9ceFrA3x10EvxJV6CBa-gJBkYZCzNGrPyi45RFYjFhlZKbWH-zxCroAhJ5O041Hydv07EVCJvYblSdBiG4F2h-KWKOBzvQsO-qzYcbhEPUVbHEj8RrEEAApbCFZ57ct4d1i_QPv-vLXMYTx28PGVd4qhguU2b9VMs30uhkHtVDtN10x_K_lMN6pWMhgJ88YlN8E0EgvaE0rrFhXg8ASH8fwzvhyOQlpqATe1Bd6JXw5dvBKb3KsWafKnH1iJZKFq3-Ti7Tm8Q3XWepNefTD9BneXrhcW9nmo3bqFcVg5TG3DE--uL7fyTVlTUVSRpVZDZU3Oy5dcmrz7MGf_ML5uSvKmV453BDX1ZJS84YiSS19Dn0CsubNeXMkpseOTxHxzafa8ChDpxnWCga84aEVYEAG3GgGb2MG4Lo7vU6waO0SF_6Xh2OE0Nevsi6NwGXcb14WM3MQ2g3G__7DGOK8FYbiEjqfLKrZJ9tGRT0QPHKB1ABQaKmoMcxsw8Kua7BT8yKdob4wjOLVf72jEnJIFCaxXlsbA-9AL11vWMOflW1LsLVULvvMs1xgyDuO-EhunJr8HQ4PPDtgju2rH9u2On=w534-h800-no&key=7c0058c0b3b4739ce344df519e85090e6c23b69b93731d5af31d72ce9c5a3634)

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

It had been a while since you had last seen Dick Grayson. 

He had come into your life when you were 7, when your father took him in as his ward. You had grown up around him, and had grown close. _Very_ close. 

Growing up together meant that sharing a bed because of nightmares soon turned into a much different kind of comforting. One that didn’t involve much clothing. 

He proposed to you one night, a night that seemed to be a long time ago now. You were both 17, and curled up on the loveseat near the window. You were reading a book out loud and made a joke, and he said that he wanted to marry you. You accepted, laughing as you flipped the page. It wasn’t until he gave you his mother’s ring a few hours later did you realise that he meant it. It was okay though, because you meant it too. 

But things, as they always seemed to do in this family, began to go south. Dick and your father began fighting, a lot more than usual. Dick seemed angrier, more violent, and he closed himself off to everyone, including you. And then one day he decided he was leaving. He had packed his bags and was going somewhere else, Chicago maybe, as long as it was far from Gotham. He didn’t tell you or talk to you about it, he just decided to leave. He never called to apologise, to talk. Every time you picked up the phone, it went to voicemail. A month later, he got a letter from Alfred, with the ring inside. 

You didn’t see each other for a year until Bruce adopted Jason. Naturally, family get-togethers were reinstated (by Alfred), which meant that you had to be in close proximity to him. How you managed to get by those without talking to him, you’re still not quite sure. 

And then Jason died and the only thing holding the family together was gone. Dick went AWOL for months, but you didn’t bother searching for him. Honestly you were too tired to care. You moved to Blüdhaven, Gotham being too much for you now.

You practised law in peace- well, not really. You were good at your job, one of the best, and you’d only been working for a couple of years but you were the most renowned lawyer in DC. Which was why the death threats you received were not surprising. 

You were trying to get a huge mob boss convicted, and you had been a little wary when everything seemed to be going without a hitch. You knew how to defend yourself, but you had long since stopped your nighttime gallivants in skin tight suits. You went to the police (despite popular beliefs, Blüdhaven Police Department was actually not bad), and filed a complaint. The Sergeant of the 17th precinct assured you she would assign the best detective they had onto your case, as well as to be with you at all times for precautionary measures. You protested against the second offer, but she insisted, and a few minutes later, here he was. 

Living with Bruce Wayne and practicing in law made it extremely easy to hide your outward appearances and facial expressions. You didn’t react to Dick coming in front of you, although his eyes widened a little and he swallowed. It didn’t matter that you hadn’t seen him in two years. It didn't matter that you didn’t know Dick lived in Blüdhaven. It didn’t matter to you.

You turned your eyes back to the Sergeant who continued to talk to you and you nodded, trying hard to ignore the sound of your heart pounding against your ears. You had hoped, foolishly so, that after all these years you would be over him. You were wrong. 

The Sergeant informed you that you wouldn’t be able to return to your apartment until the perpetrator(s) were caught, which meant that you were going to be holed up in some dingy shabby old warehouse somewhere until the whole thing blew over. You refused to drop your case though, saying that you weren’t going to back out due to a little threat. (You could have sworn you saw Dick smirk a little as you stood your ground, and that only made you angrier).

An hour later, you were holed up in a secluded cottage- not a warehouse, thank goodness- on the outskirts of Blüdhaven, facing the sea. Dick- _Detective Grayson_ , you kept reminding yourself- had also come along, and he maintained the silence you were keeping. He didn’t greet you, he didn’t initiate small talk, he said nothing. 

“You’re awfully chatty today aren’t you?”

Aaaaaand you fucking jinxed it. 

You pretended not to hear him, continuing to pull out your laptop and case files. Dick sat across you, leaning his elbows on his knees as he glanced over your work. His gaze flickered you back to you and it stayed there. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you find yourself saying, and you immediately curse yourself for it. His lips curl into an amused grin and he leans back into the sofa. “I already have many photos of you.”

You pause, irritation building as you pointedly ignore his meaningful gaze and shuffle some papers. Dick takes your silence as an opportunity to continue to tease you. “In some of them you’re wearing less clothes than others.”

You immediately stand, snatching up your laptop and heading straight into the bedroom. Laughter follows you from behind and you grit your teeth, anger replacing the irritation. 

“It’s gotten even easier to push your buttons, sweetheart-“

“Shut up,” you snap, whirling around. “Shut the fuck up and get out.”

Dick’s grin falters, raising his hands in the air as a form of surrender. He takes a step out of the room, posture changing as he became serious. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and it’s heavy with so much meaning, with so much to apologise for. I’m sorry for irritating you. I’m sorry for leaving after Jason. I’m sorry for abandoning you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to stay. 

You close the door. 

——

It’s one of those hot and humid spells. They don’t usually hit this region, but when they do, they hit hard. That means windows open, cold beers out, and wearing less than modest clothing. As if Dick didn’t already have a hard enough time concentrating around you. Your idea of cooling down meant a tank top, biker shorts, and nothing else. _Nothing else_.

Dick swallowed, averting his gaze back onto his own laptop. He’d seen you like this before. It was no big deal. 

(Except for that he used to drag you into the nearest private area and have his way with you whenever you wore something like that, but that’s not important.)

But that was before he left you. Before he broke your heart. He had no right to think of you like that anymore. 

You stretched, hands up in the air and back arching. Your shirt rode up a little, exposing your midriff briefly. Dick cleared his throat roughly, shifting the laptop on his lap. He grabbed the nearest pillow, putting it between him and his laptop. You didn’t glance at him once. 

Or so he thought. 

If seeing you was hard for Dick, it wasn’t much easier for you to look at him. Yes, you had broken up with him. But you weren’t _blind_ . Dick had always been attractive, his features were literally screaming out ‘golden boy’. It didn’t help that his body was fucking fantastic too. (Not to mention that ass. Because _damn_ that ass.) 

But here he was, shirtless, flaunting his abs and arms and a tiny bit of chest hair that was actually kinda really sexy on him. You tried not to notice the way his arm flexed as he picked up his beer, pretended not to notice the beads of sweat rolling down his neck and chest. 

Well hot damn you were noticing it alright.

The years apart had only seemed to do good to Dick. He had properly grown into his features, no more a young boy, but a man now. His eyes had a new steel in them - not that you noticed- and his body had filled out too. He wasn’t as beefed up as some of the other guys you knew (thank god), but there were muscles in _all_ the right places. Arms, chest, legs, _ass._

Your mouth went dry. 

And something else got a little wet. 

You stand, deciding to go outside to get some fresh air and clear your head. 

A hand on your arm pulls you back, and suddenly you’re chest to chest against him. 

“What are you doing?” He asks you, worry clear as day in his eyes. You roll yours, pulling your arm from his grasp. “Going outside.”

You’re close enough for you to smell him, sweat and musk and the faint hint of cologne. He smells good. ( _God,_ you’re thirsty.)

“No, you’re not.”

“Excuse me?” You demand, hands clenching at your sides. You hit his chest and push him away from you. “Who the hell are you to tell me what I can or cannot do?”

Dick swallowed, the stinging in his chest not subsiding once. “I’m the detective assigned to your case, and I’m not gonna let you get hurt.”

“I’m not going to get hurt if I step out for two seconds!” You retort, turning back to open the door. 

An arm shot out from behind you slamming the door shut. Dick spins you around, pushing you against the door. His fingers dig into your arms as he lowers his head, eyes narrowing dangerously. He leaned in, close enough that your noses brushed. 

“Look,” he grit out, as if being this close to you affected him in anyway. “I don’t care if you have an issue with me. Sure, you can be mad. But right now, there’s a fucking mob out there that’s trying to _kill_ you. And there’s no way in hell im gonna let anything happen to you. Not on my watch.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned closer, lowering his head closer to yours. He suddenly inhaled, releasing you and taking a step back. He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head. 

“There was an attack on your bike about half an hour ago,” Dick says, moving to close the windows. You groan, letting your head hit the door as you try and steady your heartbeat. 

“Oh, c’mon!” You whine, the frustration beginning to get to you. “They messed up my baby?” 

Dick nods, shooting you a sympathetic glance. You did love your bike. You push yourself off the door and sulk as you make your way to the bathroom. If you can’t get fresh air, a cold shower will have to do. You don’t notice Dick’s eyes following you out the door. 

——

The relationship you had with Dick- if one could even call it that anymore- was not simple. Jason had once asked Dick why he couldn’t just apologise. Dick made Jason throw a plate on the ground and then apologise to it, hoping it would give him clarity, but Jason just stared at him and said how Alfred would have their heads. 

(Alfred did have Dick’s head, he was made to scrub the kitchen floor while Bruce, you and Jason played Monopoly. You won.)

Dick wanted to apologise to you, god he did. But how was he supposed to waltz up to you, give a shitty apology, and then ask you to give him another chance. He couldn’t. So he didn’t.

You were hurt that Dick had left, but you had understood. You knew he was going through a tough time, and you were willing to work through it. But after his radio-silence for a month, after hundreds of missed calls and unopened letters and unread messages, you finally gave up. You decided that if he didn’t think you were worth it, you weren’t going to waste your time. So you made Alfred return him his mother’s ring. You didn’t want him to throw away the letter from you with the ring inside. 

As time passed, as you grew older and as things changed, you began to think that you were okay with the whole situation. When Alfred had called for a welcoming dinner for Jason, you had been fully prepared to strike conversation with Dick, to ask how he was doing, to be the bigger person. But then you saw him leaning against the countertop, laughing with Jason, and you were filled with anger. 

You were so angry that here he was, laughing and enjoying life as if just a year ago he hadn’t shattered yours. Did you really mean so little to him that an apology wasn’t even worth the effort?

And with a little time, cowardice, and complete lack of communication, those thoughts had turned into a deep seated hate for him. Or, at least, you told yourself it was hate. 

——

You’d think after 4 years, he’d change just a little. But no. Dick never switched on the heater, which meant that whatever warm water was in the house was gone in the first 4 minutes of him showering. That also meant that you had to wait half an hour before you could shower. 

You slammed your fist against the bathroom door, banging loudly. “Stop using up all the hot water you jerk!”

“Ooh, stop using up all the water oh no,” you heard from inside, Dick’s voice ridiculously high as he mocked you. You crossed your arms. Fine, if he wanted to be childish, you could be childish. You stalked over to the kitchen sink, turning the faucet on full blast. You waited. 

Curses and profanities spilled from the bathroom a few moments later, ranging in its target from the pipes to you. 

You grinned despite yourself, and moved to pick up his box of Fruit Loops. There wasn’t much left, maybe just enough for one serving. You didn’t think twice before emptying the box into a bowl. You quickly ate the cereal, placing the bowl in the sink as you wondered how Dick avoided getting fat. 

You didn’t have to wonder for long, because Dick stormed out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist. His hair and body was still wet, which only defined his gorgeous muscles even more. He shot you a dirty look once you met his eyes, and you grinned. 

“That wasn’t nice.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you bluffed, glancing away. 

“Oh please, your smile says it all,” he scoffed. “You enjoyed doing that.”

“Yeah, I did,” you admit, kicking your legs back onto the couch. Your grin only got wider as he muttered something under his breath, walking away. 

But then you realised where you were and who you were with and your smile dropped. It had been so easy to forget everything and just drop back into old habits. It had been so so easy. 

“YOU ATE MY FUCKING FRUIT LOOPS!”

You burst into laughter, snorting and bending over as you tried to catch your breath. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy it a little. 

——

Humming was one of the things that Dick had missed the most about you. You hummed at practically everything when you were younger. When you cooked, when you read a book, when the two of you were on patrol, when you cuddled. He had grown used to it, so it wasn’t remarkably strange or annoying when you started humming while making some pasta. 

It was only then did Dick realise that you hadn’t hummed once around him yet. But now, you seemed so much more relaxed, unaware that he was watching you from the sofa. Dick closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the couch with a smile. He focused on your voice, the soft tune that you made up as you went along. 

He pretended that you were right next to him, that his head was in your lap and you were running your hands through it. Sometimes his hair got just long enough for you to braid tiny braids into it. He would refuse to take them out and wash his hair unless he absolutely had to, and then he would insist you did more for him. 

Without realising, Dick hummed along with you. You faltered slightly once you heard his contribution, but you chose to not acknowledge it. You continued humming your own tune, changing it often and seeing if Dick could keep up. Just like he did in the past, Dick seemed to know precisely what you were going to do next, and he matched it with his own tune. 

Eventually you both stopped humming, and Dick opened one eye to watch you. 

He focused on the way you moved, the way you held things, touched things, the way your hair swayed gently in front of your face. He focused on the sway of your hips and the steady rise and fall of your chest, but his thoughts were not inappropriate. He just wanted to remember, to ingrain this moment deep into his mind so that he would never forget how young and beautiful and carefree you were in that moment. 

A part of him, admittedly a rather large, selfish part, hope that the police would take weeks upon weeks to find the people responsible for the threats. He didn’t want this time with you to end. Not now, not with things getting better. 

——

With your father and Barbara working the case with their vast resources, the Blüdhaven Police Department managed to find themselves with a lot of evidence on who your secret admirers were. It didn't take long for them to track them down and imprison them. Once they confirmed you were safe, the police force sent you a message, saying you could leave.

You had been in the safe house for a week only, and you were already being let out. 

You and Dick didn’t exchange any pleasantries as you left, and he didn’t allow his thoughts to linger on you. You had done this before; parted ways without needing words. You could do it again.

Dick wasn't made to stay at the precinct for very long, and was allowed to go home. Alone in his own apartment, Dick looked around. It seemed too big, too empty, too quiet. He tapped his foot against the floor. He hit the edge of the countertop with his fingernails. He clicked his tongue a few times. 

And then it hit him. He missed you. 

He missed your voice, and your smell, and your presence. It was strange, he thought, that he could go 4 years without you and yet one week with being with you was the most at peace and most familiar environment he had been in for a while. The idiot had gone gotten used to you again, and now he couldn't seem to function without you. 

Dick missed you.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

A day passed. Then two. Then three. Suddenly a whole week had passed without you seeing  _ him _ . With each day that passed, there was an ache in you chest that grew. And with each sunset, you told yourself that you were just holding on to something familiar, that was all. There were no feelings, just the memory of an old habit. 

A habit which you had tried so hard to forget.

You got out of your bathtub, draining it and going into your room to pick out something cute for the night. You plopped down on your bed and stared at the ceiling for a minute. 

Sighing, you got to your feet, scrolling through your phone as you mindlessly walked through your apartment. You lingered outside the balcony entrance, enjoying the light breeze that swept through. You briefly noted that there would be a storm later. 

“Wow.”

The voice behind you made you jump, and you spun around, arm raised as if to throw your phone at the intruder. You froze, lowering your arm once you realised who it was, although you didn’t lower your guard. 

“Knock, Knock,” he said, rapping his knuckles against the doorframe. Nightwing leant against the doorframe, arms crossed as a smug smirk made its way onto his stupid,  _ stupid _ face. Fucking asshole almost gave you a fucking heart attack. 

“By the way, the ‘Wow’ was for your apartment, although I must admit that _this_ …” he gestured to your outfit (and it suddenly hit you that you were standing in nothing but a lingerie set- a cute one but a lingerie set nonetheless). “...is a rather pleasant welcome.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” You demand, trying to find some semblance of dignity while you stand in front of him in nothing but lace. His smirk only grows as he pushes himself off with his shoulder, taking a step into your apartment. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you for a moment. 

“Get out,” you say, turning on your heel to- to do what you’re not quite sure, just something, anything other than stand here in front of him. 

“Now, now,” he taunts, and you feel the urge to slap him. 

“Get the fuck out of my apartment, Dick,” you grit out, picking up some magazines on the table. 

“Language,” he chided playfully, and with that you fling a paper weight at him. He dodges it and sticks his tongue out at you. 

“Sorry,” you reply, sarcasm dripping from your lips like honey. “Get the fuck out of my apartment,  _ Richard _ .”

He grins, all lopsided and boyish, and it makes you want to grin right back and kiss him silly. 

So you turn your head and walk away. 

You don’t notice that he had followed behind you into the kitchen until he called your name. 

“Do you have Frosted Flakes?”

You make a face at him, moving to take out some juice. “Why would I have  _ Frosted Flakes _ ?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” He retaliates, slipping off his mask. 

“Because I’m not three years old!”

Dick hums, crossing his arms as he watched you pour some juice. You place the carton onto the countertop and watch in horror as Dick takes it and chugs it straight. 

“What is _wrong_ with you?” You shriek, smacking his leg.

“What?” He grins, cocking his head. “It’s not like we haven’t shared saliva before.”

You roll your eyes, snatching up the carton and turning away as you feel your lips curve upwards. 

“Is that a smile?”

“No,” you immediately shoot back, trying to even out your expression. 

“That is a smile!”

“No.”

Dick whoops and pumps his fist in the air triumphantly. “Yes I got a smile!”

You let him celebrate for a moment, picking up your cup and sipping it. A moment or two passed in silence. 

“What are you doing here, Dick?”

“I missed you,” he says with no hesitation, and with such conviction that you almost believe him. 

“No really,” you scoff, crossing your arms defensively. “Why are you here?”

“You- you don’t believe me.” 

You stay silent, looking back at your cup. 

“Hey,” Dick calls out, standing and approaching you. “Why don’t you believe me?”

He tilts your chin upwards so that you can look him in the eye. You take in a shuddering breath as his gaze flickers to your lips for a split second. His eyes bore into your with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. 

“Sweetheart, why don’t you believe me?”

His voice is soft, low, the kind of voice that made you want to arch into him. You struggle to look away from him, to break the trance he seems to have on you. 

“You left,” you say, and you almost cringe at how broken and pathetic your voice sounds. It almost matches the heartbreaking pain you see a moment later in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes hesitant. You shake your head, pushing away from him as you try to steady yourself. He looks at you for a long moment, and then he lunges forward. 

He takes your face in his hands and he kisses you as if his life depends on it. You hit him and push him away and he goes. But then he kisses you again. And you push him away again, anger and frustration bubbling up inside you.  _ How dare he? How dare he waltz in here and just kiss you like that? _

Dick grips your wrists and captures your lips with his once more. You both know you can get out of his grasp if you truly want, but you just struggle pointlessly. 

You pull away gasping, hot tears rolling down your cheeks. You just want to combust from embarrassment but he pulls back slightly and wipes your tears away. 

Dick kisses you once, twice slowly, letting you melt into him. His arms wind around your waist as you note how much you’ve missed this, how much you’ve missed him. Your hands clutch at his arms as he pulls you impossibly closer to him still. 

You don’t realise he’s been moving you backwards until he presses you up against a wall, one hand on your hip, the other tangling itself in your hair. He presses his lips to yours with a need that leaves your legs trembling. He presses his lips to yours again, and again, and again, the kisses hot and heady and making your head spin but you want- you  _ need more _ . 

In between gasps and kisses, he drags his teeth along your jaw, dipping his head down towards your neck. You clutch at his suit, his scent making you dizzy and his touch making you dizzy and everything making you dizzy but you don’t really care. 

But you realise that you can’t allow yourself to fall into this hole again. 

“This is a one-time thing,” you say as he nips at your throat. 

“Mmm, sure,” he murmurs distractedly, lips hot on your neck. He quickly finds those spots that make you weak, and you’re whimpering and sighing out his name in seconds. 

“C’mon sweetheart,” he says, sucking on the spot right below your ear. Your back arches, and he wraps one arm quickly around you to pull your waist up against his own body. His other hand travels down to your thigh, hooking your leg up and around his waist. You comply, arms wrapping around his neck and threading into his hair. You tug sharply and he groans, hands moving to lift you up and press you against the wall further. 

You don’t have much of a choice except to wrap your legs around his waist and to hold on to him as he marks your neck and shoulders. You’re not quite sure how long the two of you stay in that position, but you’re eyes are shut and your mouth is open and you feel so  _ alive.  _

You roll your hips against his body, eliciting another groan from him. You tug at his hair, tilting his head up. You lean down and kiss him again, relishing in the delight of his mouth against yours. You sigh again, and you feel him smirk against you. Your back leaves the wall and you feel him moving, but you don’t care. You continue kissing him, his jaw his neck, you continue tasting every inch of his skin. 

The world turns slightly as Dick lowers you onto your bed. He struggles to pull himself away from you, hands planted on either side of your head as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes never leave yours for a moment though, and he raises one hand to caress your cheek.

“If you tell me to stop, I will,” he said, the words a familiar promise that he’d utter every time you were together. “But I want you, sweetheart. Fuck, I want you so bad. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

In retrospect, you probably should have told him to leave. To forget you and where you lived, to never show his face again. Instead, you say, “I want you to fuck me.”

Not a second passes before he’s kissing you again, lifting you up and moving you down the bed. Your fingers make quickwork of his utility belt, chucking it somewhere in the room. You pull his zipper down, pushing him back a little so that he can take off his suit. 

Kicking it off, Dick lowers himself once more, placing kisses down your throat and chest. He unclasps your bra, sliding the straps down your arms as he continues to kiss you. His nose trails down the valley between your breasts as his fingers hook into your underwear. He pauses, making eye contact with you before he grins, smoothly pulling the article off your legs. 

He straightens and falters, his breath catching in his throat. One of his hands absentmindedly strokes the underside of your breast as he looks at you. He swallows thickly, gently pushing your legs apart to settle between them. 

“I forgot how beautiful you are,” DIck murmurs, voice filled with something that sounds suspiciously like awe.

His hand smooths down your stomach and dips between your legs. You both inhale sharply, and a cocky smirk appears on Dick’s face.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he coos, brushing his lips against your parted ones.

You reply with a needy whine, bucking your hips and wrapping your arms around Dick’s neck to get him closer to you. 

“Hmm,” Dick’s lips move to your ear as he slips a finger in you slowly. Your lips form an O shape and Dick seizes the opportunity to press his mouth to yours again. You respond eagerly, moaning into his mouth when he pushes another finger in. He curls his fingers upwards and you gasp, clawing at his back as you try to grip something. The pain doesn’t seem to bother Dick though. In fact, it only seems to spur him on. 

“You’re so sensitive, love,” he murmurs into your ear, grinning against your shoulder as you buck against him some more. 

“Please, Dick,” you whine as his mouth resumes it’s motion of nipping and sucking at your skin. 

“Say it again,” he mutters. 

“Please,” you repeated. 

“Not that,” he murmurs against you. He bucks his hips, his cock rubbing against you. “Say my name.”

“Dick,” you gasp, spreading your legs further so that he has better access. You’d normally be embarrassed at how easily and quickly you’re falling apart, but you could never feel embarrassed when you were with him. 

“Again.”

“Dick,” you moan, lewd noises spilling from your lips. Your hand tangles into his hair to hold his head in place. 

“Again.”

“Dick!” You cry out, clenching around his fingers as your climax hits. Dick chuckles against your neck, praising you and helping you ride out your orgasm. 

“I love the sounds you make,” he groans as you wrap your legs around his waist. You pull him towards you, a strangled sound escaping Dick’s throat as you do so. He looks up at you for a moment, seeking confirmation and consent, that you were sure you wanted this, you wanted him. You nod once, and that’s all he needs.

He enters you in one swift motion, and you hold onto his arms as a way to find some control. One hand moves down between your bodies to rub at your clit as he thrusts into you quickly but firmly, coaxing a mixture of ‘oh god’ and ‘yes’, and every so often ‘ _ Dick’ _ . 

He comes first, but he moves to grip your hips and he doesn’t stop pushing into you. You follow behind him a couple of seconds later. He sags on top of you, cock still inside you, resting both your foreheads together as you catch your breaths.

In a hazy desire to be closer to him still, you arch your back so your torso is pressed fully into him. 

Dick accepted that invitation, arms moving to the empty space below your lower back, pulling you into him. 

He rolls you both around on the bed, peppering kisses on your face and neck as you giggle. 

“Alright!” You laugh as his hands roam back down to your ass and he started sucking the skin below your collarbones. Dick seemed to know exactly where each sensitive spot on you was- and yet he managed to always discover new ones. 

“You really must have- _ oh _ \- must have missed me a lot,” you grin up at him as he pulls back, a crooked smile on his own face. His eyes soften as they search yours, and they’re filled with tenderness and adoration. 

Filled with things he shouldn’t be feeling for you. 

Dick must have sensed the change in your mood, because he sits up, allowing you to sit up too. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks as you scramble to cover yourself with the bedsheets. “Hey, no- what happened?”

You take a deep breath to steady your heartbeat, and you avoid his confused gaze. 

“I think you should go now, Dick.”


	4. Chapter 4

You couldn’t sleep. 

Dick had looked at you for a long moment after you had spoken, and then gathered his things before leaving without saying a word. The bed that was so warm just moments ago was cold now, the air in your apartment still and lifeless. You never could sleep well alone. 

You were furious that you allowed yourself to become vulnerable and open to him again. The very fact that you had let him back into your bed, and by proxy, into your life, meant that you were _weak._

You roll over and close your eyes, counting the seconds as they pass you by. 

At 12,963 seconds, your alarm goes off, and you drag yourself out of bed. You go to the kitchen, setting up the coffee maker. You then shuffle to the bathroom to take a quick shower. After your shower you head back to the kitchen, and eat your breakfast. You then go and get ready for work. 

You had to go to court today, to hear the final verdict of Sokolov- the mob boss you were convicting. 

The buzzing of your phone stops you right before you enter the courtroom. It’s a message from an unknown number, but you know who it’s from by the way the words are phrased. You make a mental note to get back to the issue later, once you were done with this. 

You walked inside, nodding to your coworker as he rambled about how he was sure the two of you would win the case. _The two of you_ , you mentally scoffed. Even the bad guys knew you were the one pursuing the case. Your coworker was just there because apparently you couldn’t ‘handle a case like this by yourself’.

Nothing completely noteworthy happens during the court session, but the trial does end in your favour. You have to shake many hands and accept many compliments that you can’t really seem to care about right now. It’s strange, how you’ve been working on this for nearly two years and yet you feel no satisfaction. Your boss promises you a raise and a monthly bonus, and you thank her. 

You get out of the court as soon as you can, the feeling like you can’t breathe disappearing immediately as you leave the building. 

But then again, a part of your mind reasons, that might be due to the fact that the first thing you see as you step out of the building is Dick. 

You know, logically, why he’s here. It’s happened once or twice before, quiet car rides to and fro Gotham when there was an emergency and one of you couldn’t drive. (The time Jason died comes to mind being the most recent.) But a small (really big) part of you hopes that maybe he’s just here to see you. 

Dick looks up a moment later, a blindingly bright smile appearing on his face. He waves you over, and you notice a few coworkers staring and whispering. You were no stranger to that when you and Dick first went out. 

You walk over to him, adjusting your hair casually and then reprimanding yourself for it. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he says, opening the car door for you. You try to ignore him, you do, but you can’t seem to stop the rush of heat to your face. Dick seems to notice this too, because his smile only widens. He shuts the door, making his way to the other side of his car. 

Sliding into his seat and starting the engine, Dick starts driving. A few seconds of silence pass. 

“So how was it?”

“Put on your belt,” you say instead, choosing to look out the window. Dick pauses, and you see his smile widen in the side mirror. 

“I knew you were concerned about me,” he says smugly, putting on his belt. You roll your eyes. “You’re going 110. I don’t want to have to deal with you whining about an injury if we crash.”

Dick always had a way of taking your irritated jabs and polishing them until there was nothing left but the truth you were never good at expressing. (Dick used to say that you got it from Bruce.)

“‘Someone I want you to meet.’” Dick muses, pressing down on the acceleration as you hit the open road. “What do you think he means by that?”

You shrug your shoulders, eyes trained on the surroundings. You don’t know when your gaze goes and lands on his reflection in the mirror, but it seems to stay there. 

Dick looks to the side, probably to see what you’re looking at. He catches your eyes in the mirror and smiles, a genuine soft smile. 

You briefly wonder why you’re allowing yourself to do this, to so easily and quickly slip back into this routine of yours. Why are you doing this when he hurt you, where are you- _fuck_ he’s giving you that smile, a smile you’ve seen so many times before and yet it was not enough. Those smiles he’d give you when he’s pass you by in the hall, or leave for some errands, or tell you he loved you. 

A part of you is about to implode, and probably cause some very unwanted tears. But then he looks away- as he should, he is driving a car, after all- and you fix your gaze onto your lap. 

“Is it-“ he clears his throat roughly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “Is it weird to say that I missed you?”

“You missed me?” You say, immediately hating the way you heart leapt back up into your throat. You’re slightly peeved at how you’re _thankful_ that he seems to still have some interest in you. 

“Did you miss me?” 

And despite everything yelling at you to ignore him or to shut him down now, your mouth opens and you say, “I did.”

“Good,” he says, sounding _far_ too pleased with himself. You wish you had something with you that you could smack him with.

You see his hand moving in the corner of your eyes but you don’t pay attention to it- not until it’s closing around yours and resting on your lap. 

You still your breathing, as if not moving will somehow make his hand disappear. It seems to do the opposite though, because Dick squeezes your hand and moves so that his fingers rest between yours. 

Nothing else is said through the rest of the ride, and Dick only lets go of your hand once to adjust the aircon. His hand immediately goes back to holding your waiting one. The ride isn’t long, there’s barely any traffic so you’re crossing into Gotham borders in little less than an hour. 

Pulling into the driveway at Wayne Manor causes tension to seep back into you for the fear of what’s to come. Your father never called the two of you to Wayne Manor. Alfred, every fortnight, would invite one of you (in an alternating pattern) to have dinner at Wayne Manor. Invitations to galas were in the mail, in fancy letters that often went unanswered by you and Dick. The last time your father himself had called you to the Manor was when he wanted to introduce Jason to you. (Alfred was the one who made the unfortunate call about Jason. Not Bruce.)

Dick squeezes your hand again, and you can tell that he too is worried. You both get out of the car, Dick’s hand gravitating to your back as he guides you to the door. 

Your father opens the door before you can ring the bell. 

“There’s going to be a new Robin.”

The silence that follows that statement is almost comical. Both you and Dick stare at your father, words not fully hitting you. 

“Okay something is seriously wrong here because either you’re joking-“ Dick says, pointing a finger at Bruce. “-or you’re being serious. And I don’t know which option scares me more.”

Bruce simply raises an eyebrow at Dick before he turns to you. 

“Who? And how old?” You ask, gritting your teeth. While you may not know your father, you know him. So there’s no point of you wasting time trying to convince him not to. You’re sure he would have tried to do the same to himself, which begs the question, who’s the kid.

“Timothy Drake. 13.”

“Aren’t the Drakes alive? The parents, I mean,” Dick asks as you move to take if your coats. 

“Just the father. Mother passed a while ago.”

“So you’re not making him your legal ward?” You clarify, giving Alfred a hug. Bruce shakes his head. 

“Alright, where is the kid?”

“In the lounge.”

Dick gives you a look as he walks into the lounge, and a small boy is sitting on the couch, reading a book. He’s definitely only 13, and while he’s small, you can tell he’s had some training. The boy- Tim- looks up, and you see his eyes widen. 

_“Whoa! You-you’re Dick fuckin’ Grayson!” The new Robin- Jason- gaped, eyes wide with a childlike innocence that captured your heart in seconds. He was only 11. “I’m a big fuckin’ fan! I used to haul ass all over this dumpofa town to get pics of Robin and Batgirl! You’re so BITCHIN!”_

_You couldn’t help but giggle at the lad, as Dick’s eyes widened even further. “Uh first, I love you, dude. Second- B where’d you say you find him again?”_

Tim opens his mouth- and nothing comes out. 

“Hi,” you offer, giving him a small wave before you hold out your hand for him to shake. You introduce yourself before telling him how nice it is to meet him. Tim grins, and he begins speed talking through how he’s loved Batgirl and Robin and Nightwing and how you’re all so _dope_ \- and you look up and Dick’s staring at you and he gives you another smile and suddenly everything seems to be going alright. 

—

Alfred made lunch. And dinner, which Barbara was also attending, so you were both guilted into staying for that. Not that either of you minded, you were both having a blast with Tim. The boy was so so _so_ incredibly smart, and you were astonished by the way he spoke about being Robin, like it was an adventure and an honour, and not like it was an emotionally draining leech. 

But you had hopes for Tim, and it was clear that your father did too. And the kid seemed to be good for him, the stubborn old sack. 

You and Dick leave after a couple of glasses of wine, Dick insisting he has to drive and you saying that you had work the next day. The car ride- that now seems so impossibly long- builds plenty of tension as you and Dick steal glances and not so innocent accidental brushes. 

Dick pulls into a strangely convenient parking space right outside your apartment building. You move to unbuckle your belt but you hesitate, slowly putting it to the side. 

“Do you wanna, um…” you trail off awkwardly, unsure of how to ask him. “Come up for some wine, or- something?”

Dick quirks an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “ _Wine_ , huh?”

“Yep,” you clarify, clearing your throat as you open the car door. Dick laughs, following after you eagerly as you walk into the apartment building. 

Once the lift doors shut, Dick has you up against the wall, his lips on your neck. You don’t make any move to stop him, so one of his hands travel slowly up the back of your thigh as you thread your fingers through his hair. The ding of the elevator has you splaying your hand on his chest to push him away. 

Dick stumbles back, but regains his senses and holds the lift door open for you. Dick follows on your heels, getting impatient as you take your time to unlock your front door. You’re taking so long that he’s almost sure that you’re doing it on purpose. Once the lock clicks and you turn open the door, Dick practically pushes you inside. 

The door isn’t even shut before his lips are on yours again. 


	5. Chapter 5

You let Dick kiss you, pull you into him, press you against the door. You let him press his lips to yours again and again and again before he pries your lips apart and slips his tongue in your mouth. 

You tilt your head back to give him better access, holding onto his shoulders as he deepens the kiss further. 

Dick breaks the kiss, pulling back from you for a moment. He then tilts your chin up to expose your throat to him, and he ducks down to add more marks to the ones he left the night before. 

What are you doing? You scream to yourself in your head. Why are you doing this again? Slipping back into the hole. You’ve already fallen in enough, get out now while you still can. 

Some divine higher power must have heard you, for at that moment Dick’s communicator beeps quickly- morse code. He hesitated against your neck as you both struggle to pay attention. 

Jkr Gtm doc BM-(Joker, Gotham, Docks- Batman)

He then groans, grip on your hips tightening. 

“I swear your father always had the worst possible times.”

He pulls back from you unwillingly, placing small kisses wherever he could hoping it would coax you to let him stay. 

“Go,” you push at his chest as he ducks his head to kiss you again. 

“Raincheck, yeah?” He murmurs against your lips before he pulls back, giving you a charming smile. You nod and put on a smile, closing the door behind him as he left. You slump against it, trying to fight the tears that were pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

You take in a shuddering breath, deciding to confront your feelings and sort through them before Dick came back. 

Did you want him? 

Yes, god yes. 

Did you trust him? 

To stay? No. 

Did you love him?

You chose not to think about that very much. 

You knew you wanted him. You wanted him physically and emotionally. You wanted him back in your life, to give you kisses and bring you flowers and hold your hand for no reason whatsoever other than he just wanted to. 

But you can't let yourself get too vulnerable and trust him again, not after he left. Dick was self-destructive, as Donna had once said. Every bad situation he was in he managed to willingly walk into it. He seemed to never allow himself happiness, and he wreaked havoc around himself as he did so. 

So this… friends with benefits situation that you were currently in wasn’t too bad. You knew that it was probably not a good idea, but at least you wouldn’t have to spend unnecessary time with him outside of your nights together. 

You took in a deep breath and nodded to yourself, decision (somewhat) made. Sex was just that- sex. It didn’t have to mean anything to you. It didn’t mean that you trusted him or that you were letting him back into your life. You were just letting him back into your bed. 

What could possibly go wrong?

——

A lot of shit was going wrong. 

He was distracted and his head wasn’t in the right space and he was sloppy. That was why he was in this situation, hiding behind a bunch of boxes, shot thrice, trying not to bleed out as Batman and Robin came to his rescue. 

You hadn’t been into what he was doing earlier, he knew your body well, maybe even better than you, and it wasn’t reacting the way it normally did. But you weren’t fighting him or pushing him away, you had arched into him and pulled him closer so he kept going. He knew something was wrong but maybe you had just needed a distraction. Dick was more than happy to be a distraction for you. 

But right now, you were a distraction for him, and a very deadly one. 

And- wait- someone was approaching him. It was you- why were you here? It didn’t matter, Dick thought, it didn’t matter how or why you were here, not when you were smiling at him like that. 

“Never took you for a damsel in distress,” you say. 

“Really?” Dick grunts, shifting his position as the pain seemed to vanish. “Always took you as a knight in shining armour.”

You kneel down next to him, cradling his head in your hands. You tut softly, inspecting his wounds as he leaned into your touch. 

“You’re hurt,” you murmur, brushing his damp hair away from his forehead. 

“I’m better now you’re here,” he replies, shooting you a cocky grin. You blush prettily, shaking your head as a smile of your own works it’s way into your face. 

“You flirt like that with all the women you meet?”

“Nah,” he shrugged, standing when you offered him a hand. “Just you.”

You grin as he pulls you into him, his hands resting gently on the small of your back. You hum as he leans down to kiss you, your hands sliding up his chest and into his hair. Your lips were soft against his, and a quiet noise comes from the back of Dick’s throat as he melds your lips together. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, and you pull back slightly, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. 

“Do you love me?” He asks, lips pressing to the crook of your shoulder. 

You hum again, tugging on his hair to bring his lips back to yours. He lets you take control of the kids, and you brush your lips against his softly. 

“Of course I do,” you tell him before you pull him back down for another kiss. He can’t help but grin into the kiss, and hearing you giggle makes his grin impossibly wider. He drags his mouth up your jaw slowly, relishing in the quiet hums you give him as he places small kisses along his path. 

“Nightwing,” you murmur softly, your grip on his hair tightening. He places a kiss on the side of your neck. 

“Nightwing!” You gasp as he nips at the column of his throat. 

“Nightwing!” You hiss, your face suddenly a foot away from his as Dick blinks blearily. 

“Wh’d’ya move?” He slurs, and you try to prop him up against the shipment boxes. You glare at him from behind your domino mask, irritated that this stupid bumbling buffoon fucked up so bad that your father called you for help. And you had to put on your stupid suit that had gotten a little tighter since the last time you wore it (a fact which annoyed you a little because moving wasn’t something you could do comfortably). 

Dick wonders how you suddenly learned to teleport, because you’ve changed your clothes and you’re wearing a mask and neither of you are in the position you were 10 seconds ago. 

His eyes droop shut again but you call his name harshly, and his head bobs in an attempt to keep his attention on you. 

“You have to stay awake.”

“But ‘m sleepy…” his voice trails off weakly as you wipe away the sweat from his rapidly paling face. 

“I know,” you say, grabbing the first aid kit you had brought with you. “But you need to stay awake alright? Can you do that?”

Dick’s head jerks in what you assume to be a nod and satisfied, you move back to assess the damage done. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you see his wounds. 

Two bullet wounds below his right rib cage, and the last one was about two inches from his heart. 

And they were bad. 

“A’you angry ‘t me?” He mumbles, one of his hands weakly coming up to try and touch you. His hand doesn’t make it, flopping back down after it got an inch off the ground. Dick huffs, irritated. 

“No, I’m not angry at you,” you try to keep your voice and hands steady as you try to bandage his wounds. You can’t stitch him up, not now. Batman was taking out the rest of the henchmen, and Robin was in the Batmobile with a dislocated shoulder. 

“Then why- whydya stop kissin’ me?” He says, his voice terribly wounded. You glance up at him briefly, fingers undoing the next roll of bandages. 

“I wasn’t kissing you.”

“Were too!” He accuses, eyes impossibly wide as he tried to look upset. He gave up after a moment, choosing instead to let his eyes and head drop again. 

“Hey now,” you call out frantically. “You gotta stay awake for me bud.”

Dick doesn’t respond for a moment and your heart nearly stops. 

“Y’stopped kissin me,” He pours childishly he says after a long second, attempting to stick his tongue out at you. “Donwanna stay up.”

“If you keep your eyes open, I’ll kiss you,” you promise him, securing the last bandage. His eyes narrow in a poor attempt of scrutinising your face, and you do a once-over at his bandages. They weren’t the best, but you had to work with what little materials and time you had. They would hold for the next 15 minutes or so, which meant that you need to get Dick out of there pronto. 

“Pr’mise?” He grunts as you shift him again, to carry him to the car. 

“Yeah Boy Wonder,” you huff as you stand unsteadily on your feet. It’s been awhile since you’ve donned this suit and mask, and while you weren’t unfit, you weren’t up to the standard you used to be either. You wonder if Dick was always this heavy as you lugged him back to the car. Batman met you halfway (thank God) and took Dick from your arms. He carries the barely conscious man back to the car, placing him in the backseat as you got in, cradling his face in your lap. 

Dick stares at you, eyes wide, teeth ground together as he tried not to blink. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, brushing your hair through his hair. You hadn’t noticed before- hadn’t had the time to notice- his slight sideburns are beginning to lose their colour. He’s barely 22, white hair already making their appearance. It’s barely obvious, just a slight portion, but it’s enough for you to be sent reeling. There’s a new scar across the bridge of his nose, at the corner of his eye, one more on his chin. 

“Keeping m’ eyes op’n,” he breathes out, head lolling to the side. 

“Good boy,” you praise, giving him a soft smile as you tried to keep him engaged. Dick, obviously pleased at your praise, puckers his lips expectantly, and you huff out a laugh. Of course. 

You run your fingers along his cheekbone as his eyes flutter shut briefly. You bend down to brush your lips against his softly before you sit straight again. You ignore the weight of your father’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

——

You hadn’t felt fear quite like this before. 

When Jason has died, he was dead. Your father had delivered the news and that was that. There was no hope, no waiting for updates, nothing. He was just gone. 

Before Jason had died, death wasn’t quite real for you just yet. There had been a few close calls, but you never remembered them well. 

This time however, you knew you’d never forget. Because between the glance up away from Dick’s face and the glance down to avoid your father’s eyes, Dick’s chest had stopped moving. 

There was no need to raise alarm, the rational side of your head had said. Just try to wake him, do CPR, do chest compressions. He’s be fine. 

So, naturally, you panicked.

“Dick?” You breathed out, heart hammering in your chest. For the next second the whole world seemed to go quiet, everyone holding their breath in anticipation for any response from him. But you got nothing. 

“Dick!” You cried out, hands grabbing his shoulders. You shook him roughly, gritting your teeth as you blinked back tears. 

“What’s wrong?” Batman barked, pressing down on the accelerator. 

“He’s not- he isn’t breathing!” You wail, shifting so that he was lying flat on the back seat. You press your ear to his bloody chest, trying to find a heartbeat. Robin reaches around and tried to find Dick’s pulse with his good arm. 

“You need to calm down,” your father tells you as you shakily try to press down on his chest. 

“I am calm!” You shoot back the same time Tim says, “B, I can’t find a pulse.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

“Come on, Dick,” you mutter helplessly as you continue pushing down on his chest. You keep pressing down as tears blur your vision and you gasp for air but you still keep pushing. You can’t lose him. Not after you’ve just got him back. 

Hands grip your arms and pull you away, but you refuse to let him go. 

“No! No, Dick!” You cry out as someone pulls you out of the car. 

“We need to get him to the infirmary,” a soft voice murmurs in your ear. Barbara. She holds you as your chest heaves, desperation filling you completely. 

“Barbara-“ you sob, knees giving out. She wraps her arms firmly around you, holding you to her side. 

“I know.”

Eventually your tears stop, but she doesn’t let go of you. She holds you to her side, only relaxing her hold on you when you shift to rest your head on her leg. 

“You should take a shower,” she tells you after a few minutes. You don’t respond, eyes focused on the blood all over you. On your hands, on your lap, on your stomach. Dick’s blood. 

You bolt upright, dread filling you as you glance around quickly. Barbara calls your name but you stand, your head spinning as you try to find Dick. You need to see him, to hold him, to know that he’s alright.

Your feet are moving and there’s a sharp pain in your thigh but you ignore it and continue walking. You see your father, now in a shirt and sweats, and you falter. 

“Where is he?”

Your father looks you over. “You’ve been shot.”

“Where’s Dick?” You demand, voice weak. You try to move past him but he stops you. 

“Daddy, please I need to see him, I need to see he’s okay!” You plead, linking your fingers together. Bruce gives in, wrapping an arm around your waist to help you walk towards the infirmary. 

“He’s alive,” your father says, and that’s all you need to hear. He’s alive. Dick’s alive. You see your father’s lips moving but you don’t hear the words he says. 

And he’s lying there, pale and on a table, chest bloody with Alfred leaning over him taking out bullet shards. There’s a bag of blood on the side, with a tube that you’re sure is attached to his arm. 

He looks sick and grey and not at all right but the heart monitor beside him is beeping and it’s steady and you’ve never felt more relieved in your life. 

“Master Dick is no longer in danger, Miss Wayne,” Alfred says, and you nod weakly. 

Bruce steers you towards a chair where he instructs you to take your suit off. You do, wincing as you undo the armour around your legs. Your eyes flicker between Dick’s heart monitor and his face, just in case. 

Bruce comes back with a few bandages, assessing the damage done to your leg and telling you it was just a graze and would heal soon. You nod distractedly, not looking at him once. 

“I was not…” Bruce begins, pausing as he rethought his words. “Aware,” he decided on, “that you and Dick were back together.”

“We um,” you breathe, suddenly tired now that all the panic has faded away. “We’re not-“

You trail off, your thoughts only being about Dick, and about his injuries and Dick and him and being in his arms and his smile and him. 

“Sweetheart,” your father calls, crouching beside you as he cleans your wound. 

“Hm?”

“I don’t want to impose or intrude,” he starts, voice a little unsure. “But whatever situation you are in, darling, make sure you don’t get hurt.”

“A little late for that considering you’re patching me up,” you say dryly, and Alfred’s moustache twitches. 

Alfred finishes wrapping bandages and he takes off his gloves, setting them on a side table. 

You take the glass of water Tim passes you. Tim. You glance at him and see his arm is in a sling, but he otherwise looks fine. He gives you a smile and you try to return it. 

“Can I sit here?” He asks, and you give him a nod. Tim cozies up into your side, his fingers playing with the hem of your singlet. 

“How is he?”

“Master Dick has lost a lot of blood. His heart rate is steady, but he will likely be unconscious for a few hours yet. I would suggest that everyone follow his lead and get some rest.”

Bruce and Tim stand, following Alfred’s orders. You stand as well, but walk (limp) forward to Dick’s side, taking a seat when Alfred pushes a chair towards you. 

Exhaustion catches up to you as you play with Dick’s hand, and you rest your head on his thigh. You start humming, allowing the melody to lull you to sleep. 

For the first time in a long time, by Dick’s side, you embrace the darkness willingly. 


	6. Chapter 6

**_AN: I’m so sorry that I haven’t posted in a while. School has just started so I won’t have as much free time as I used to, but I’ll try to post every two weeks, or at the least once a month. Here’s some smut to make up for my absence. Enjoy!_**

You used to hate the smell of cigarettes. You despised them with a burning passion. You had seen your mother up on the roof with a cigarette in her hand too many times, had smelled the horrible stench on her when she came back down. Selina made sure to always shower after she smoked, but you still would give her a look with your nose wrinkled. 

“I know, I know,” she’s murmur, pulling you into her arms. “But I’ve had a long day.”

You didn’t understand then how a small foul smelling roll could make anyone feel better. 

And yet here you were, cigarette in your hand. You didn’t smoke often, you had a lot more self control than that (you hoped). But some nights were difficult. 

Sometimes the itch in your brain would go away after comfort food, or a run, or patrol, and sometimes after a cigarette. 

This time you needed a smoke. 

“Those things will kill you,” a small voice says from behind you. You cough and curse under your breath holding the cigarette behind you. You turn and give Tim a weary smile. 

“I don’t do it often.”

“It’s still bad for you,” he says, climbing up to stand next to you. You hum, your hand absentmindedly combing through his hair. Tim leans into your touch hesitantly, but you smile down at him. 

“B said it was _complicated._ ”

“What was?” You query, heart faltering a little as you think of the situation Dick was in. 

“You and Dick,” Tim said bluntly. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I asked if you guys were dating and he said it was - ahem- _complicated.”_

He does a poor impression of your father’s voice and you’re surprised you don’t have to force a laugh in response. Silence surrounds the two of you, and it’s actually quite peaceful. You glance down at the boy, 13, black haired and blue eyed and so so different from Jason. 

Tim’s features are softer, more innocent. Jason’s eyes were sharp, lips either in a cocky smirk or a scowl, eyebrows usually bunched together. (He learned his one eyebrow raise from Alfred, and Dick had found it the funniest thing in the world.)

Jason was bigger than Tim too. Jason was tall for his age, his later years making him scrawny. He wasn't given the chance to fill out his new body. 

Tim was built more delicately, which wasn’t necessarily _bad._ It just meant he had a different fighting style. More similar to yours. 

Your father was more brute strength, often having to resort to speed in the face of stronger opponents, but speed was not his first move. 

Dick used his acrobatics, flipping out of the line of fire and into a close space where he could land a couple of firm punches. 

You weren’t as strong as your father or Dick. Two punches from you didn’t usually knock someone out. Speed was more your strong suit. You weren’t as flexible as Dick, that was true, but you moved faster. You didn’t have to flip when you could dart an inch to the side, and calculate what moves you needed to do before the punch had been fully thrown. Often, your opponent was down before he knew it. You noticed Tim seemed to fight the same way. Calculated moves, timed to perfection, neither of you having the luxury of affording a hit on yourselves. 

So you suddenly felt responsible for him. 

Tim had kept you company while Dick remained unconscious, and texted you about all the updates (no matter how small) while you were away at work. It wasn’t a surprise as how quickly you bonded with the boy. 

“Alfred mentioned that you liked photography,” you say casually, trying to ignore the burn in your throat and chest, begging you for another cigarette. _Mind over body_ , you told yourself. 

“Uh, yeah,” Tim mumbles, voice so soft that you barely heard him. 

“That’s great! So is it just a hobby or something you want to do professionally?”

“Just- just for myself, a hobby,” he says, fidgeting with his fingers. You smile at him warmly, trying to ease his obvious nerves. 

“Am I allowed to see-“

“Yes!” Tim blurts, and then he darts back into the house, presumably to go get his photos. 

You let out a sigh and quickly turn back to your cigarette, relishing in the relief that spread through your lungs to the rest of your body. 

“I thought you quit,” another voice says, and you nearly jump. You spin around, accusations rising in your throat about _what the hell were you thinking_ and _You should be in bed you absolute idiot_ and _You almost died-_ until you see him, bloody and broken and bruised, trying not to lean on either the doorframe or his crutch to keep his balance. Dick looks tired, and pale- very, _very_ pale- and his hair is damp with sweat. He’s trembling slightly from the cold (which makes sense considering he’s barely wearing any clothing aside from his bandages), and his jaw is clenched, giving away how much pain he was in. 

And yet you don’t hesitate to launch yourself at him, carefully but quickly wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. He lets out a quiet grunt, but one of his arms moves to press you tightly against him. 

Your cigarette now forgotten on the floor, you pull back a little from the embrace only to lean forward to kiss him. You kiss him desperately, like its the last time you’d ever get a chance to, and he matches your movements with a fire that makes you dizzy. 

You pull back once more, this time to wrap Dick’s arm around your shoulder so you can support him. You blink away the tears in the corners of your eyes as you gingerly place an arm around his waist. 

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed,” you tell him. 

“And you’re not supposed to smoke,” he rasps back, leaning heavily on you. 

“That’s different,” you protest, shifting so that you were supporting more of him. 

Dick opens his mouth to contradict you, you’re sure, but he winces instead. You flinch as he does so, casting your gaze back down to the ground as you help him into his room. 

“How long have I been out?” He asks you as you set him down on his bed. You adjust the pillows around him, ignoring him for the moment. 

“Two days. 47 hours to be exact,” you tell him, busying yourself by tidying his messy room. (How it’s always so messy you never understood.)

“It’s… Friday?” Dick asks, glancing at the clock on the wall. You hum, straightening out some books and bunching up old clothes into one corner. 

A few minutes pass as you continue to clean, and then Dick decides to break the silence. 

“I’m bored!” He complains loudly, his head killing to the side. The corner of your mouth twitches slightly, but you do a good job of keeping your expression neutral. 

“What do you wanna do?” You ask him, recalling how much of a baby he could be when he was on bed rest. 

“We should have sex,” he says, and you bang into his table. 

“Absolutely not,” you snap, slamming magazines down. 

“Why?”

“Because you’re injured!”

“You can be on top!”

“No!”

“Why?”

“I already told you!”

“And I gave you a solution.”

“You’re so infuriating,” you glare at him, turning one of his shirts around so it was the right way up. A couple of seconds- only a couple- pass. 

“So… we can have sex right?”

“Dick!” You sigh, exasperated. He begins to defend himself but is interrupted by a timid knock on the door. 

“Come in!” You call out as Dick sticks his tongue out at you. 

“Real mature,” you shoot as Tim sticks his head in the door. 

“I got the pictures if this isn’t… a bad time?”

“Not at all!” You assure him, patting the side of the bed near Dick. Tim hesitantly sits next to Dick who gives him a grin, shifting to make more space for him. 

“Hey Tim Tam I got a question for you,” Dick starts, voice too cheery to be innocent.

“Oh-Kay?” Tim replies, uncertainty clear in his voice 

“I’m injured right?”

“Yeah?”

“So beautiful over here has to do whatever I want, right?” He asks, nodding his head in your direction. 

“Wrong!” You cut in, and Dick shushes you. 

“I guess?” Tim replies, shrugging. 

“Ha!” Dick laughs triumphantly. “You have to.”

“Have to what?” Tim asks. 

“Nothing,” you say, giving Dick another glare. “Let’s see the pictures Tim.”

——

Tim didn’t leave for another hour. It was only until Alfred had knocked on the door to remind the young boy of the time did Tim say his goodbyes. You wave goodbye as Tim shuts the door behind him, a content feeling enveloping you. 

“Now can we have sex?”

You let out an incredulous laugh, turning to stare at your- your what? It didn’t matter. 

“Fine!”

Dick grins, but then pauses as you stand. “If you really don’t want to, then we won’t. Promise.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you begin, hesitant at how much information you’ll give him. “It’s just that you’re injured.”

“We’ve had sex while one of us was injured before,” Dick reminds you as if you could forget any one of the times you’d been together. 

“Yes, I know,” you say, voice becoming slightly teasing as you unbutton your shirt. 

“You’re stripping for me, huh?” Dick smirks, leaning back smugly against the cushions. 

“Why, you want me to leave my clothes on?” You retort, earning a cockier smirk from him. 

Dick watches you, his arms resting behind his head as you remove your clothes, before moving to straddle him. 

“You’re so annoying,” you tell him in response to his general face and being, and he grins. “You love it, babe.” 

“Shut up,” you mutter as you lean down to kiss him. He kisses you back slowly, lazily, and you immediately know what game he’s playing. You also immediately make a pact with yourself that you’re going to break his facade, one way or another. 

You rest your hands on either side of his face, careful not to lean against his torso. You never minded the slow kisses, it was always Dick that grew impatient, and you knew that. So you kissed him slowly, lazily, letting him play his game. It was not long before he shifted again, his hands coming down to rest on your thighs. 

You pull back from him immediately smacking his hands lightly. 

“No touching,” you command. 

“Yes ma’am,” he says mockingly, and you narrow your eyes. You interlace your fingers with his, dragging his hands and pinning them to rest above his head. 

Dick’s breath hitches as you drag your lips along his jaw. You hum as you reach the edge, dipping your head to place soft kisses on his neck. Dick tries to act as if you’re not affecting him, but his breaths are too even, too perfect to be natural. He’s trying hard, his fingers twitching in his desire to hold your hands. 

As for you, well, you’re having more fun than you’ve had in _years_. You can feel a grin work it’s way into your face as you kiss down his neck, open mouthed kisses which sometimes left behind little marks on his skin. Your lips found every single scar on his neck and upper chest, and Dick was finding it harder and harder to concentrate. 

So when you press your hips down onto his, he lets out a groan and squeezes your hands. You chuckle, pressing another kiss at his jaw. 

“What do you want, baby boy?” You murmur, nudging your nose with his. 

“You,” he breathes out, eyes flickering between your own. “Always you.”

You hum, letting go of his hands and sitting straight, watching him closely. He keeps his hands above his head, and doesn’t seem to be able to take his eyes off you. 

“You want me, huh?” You tease him, your hips moving slowly against his. He lets out a short huff, fingers flexing in an attempt to gain some control back. (It doesn’t work). 

“Mm- yeah,” he murmurs, voice low. He doesn’t move his arms to try and touch you again although he wants to- and _god does he want to_. You’re so pretty sitting on top of him, a mischievous smirk on your face as your hands ran up the length of your body, discarding your bra as you did so. You shimmy off him for a moment, pulling off his boxers and sliding off your own underwear. 

You take a deep breath, telling yourself you had nothing to be worried about and that Dick had seen you naked before. 

So you straddle him again and he opens his mouth to make some snarky comment but then he pauses, light dying from his eyes.

“When did you get that?” He asks you, the better lighting and your slow movements making it easy to see what he had missed a few nights ago. A long scar, faint but long, down the side of your breast and curling back along your ribs to your back. It was barely noticeable compared to your other scars, but Dick payed attention to your body. 

“A while ago,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders. “My last patrol.”

Duck glances away from the scar, looking back up at you. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I thought you wanted sex!” You scoff, trying to hide your discomfort. 

“Trust me, sweetheart, I do,” he tells you, his arms coming down slowly to rest on your thighs again. “But if you wanna talk about it we can do that.”

He holds your gaze for a long moment before you swallow thickly, looking away. 

“I don’t wanna right at this moment,” you admit, fingers dancing over his knuckles. 

“That’s fine,” he’s quick to assure you, giving you a soft smile that just melts your heart. And by melts, you don’t mean a slow _drip drip drip_ as ice cream slowly morphs into a puddle. No, you mean your heart practically liquidises immediately, making your insides feel all gooey and warm and fuzzy. 

Obviously, you react by drawing him into another kiss. 

Dick’s movements are not slow, but you’re quick to shut him down, taking your time and setting the pace for the rest of the night. You couldn’t afford to tear any of his stitches or reopen his new wounds.

You shift your weight slightly, and he winces. 

“Sorry,” you whisper the same time he murmurs, “I’m fine.”

You get off him carefully, giving him a smile in response to his groans of protest, before you move to slide off his boxer briefs. You quickly discard your own underwear and get back to his side quickly. 

Dick watches you straddle him once more with a smug smirk, pretending that his own heart wasn’t beating a mile a minute. You shoot him a quick glare, one he answers with a wink and a grin, before you slowly move your hips forward and back. 

The sound that leaves Dick’s throat is barely human. His hands grip your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh. You love it. 

You place one hand on his leg to maintain your balance, moving your hips once, twice, a breathy laugh escaping from your throat as Dick screws his eyes shut. 

He swallows thickly as you shift once more, positioning him at your entrance. 

“You okay?” You ask him, worry clear as day on your face. He hums, nodding to you and giving you the go ahead.

You slide down him slowly, back arching and your palms pressing into his lower abdomen as your mouth parts. Your head droops a little as you relish in the feeling of being so wonderfully stretched, feeling full and warm and like he was made to fit with you. Trying to catch your breath - how have you already lost it?- you open your eyes and glance up at Dick. 

You nearly cum right then and there. 

Eyes closed, his head is tilted up ever so slightly, brows furrowed as his lips are drawn together in a perfect ‘O’. He looks delicious.

Driven by an unknown motive, you begin to move much faster than you had originally planned. And apparently, given by the sounds that are coming from Dick, he didn’t expect it either. 

You weren’t chasing your own pleasure, you soon realised, you just wanted him to feel good. So you moved your hips in ways that coaxed the most noises from him, knowing by the way which muscles tended when that he was getting close. 

You clench down around him as you move, curses spilling from his mouth as you allow small moans to slip from yours. Dick thrusts his hips up to meet yours, his eyes snapping open as he digs his fingers into you. He thrusts up into you once, twice, and then he loses it, calling out your name as he rode out his high. 

Extremely satisfied with yourself, you slide off him, getting comfortable in the space between his arm and his body. He’s still panting when you start to draw patterns on his hand, although he tugs you closer to place a kiss on your forehead. 

“You’re fucking _phenomenal_ ,” he states, eyes closing as he regains his senses. You respond with a giggle, burying yourself further into him. 

“Did you-“ he starts suddenly, voice upset. You shoot up, worried, eyes darting over all his (fine) wounds. “Sweetheart, you didn’t cum, did you?”

You avoid his gaze, instead choosing to lie down and continue to play with his hand. 

“Babe.”

You ignore him. 

“Baby.”

Your patterns become wiggles on his arm. 

“I know you can hear me.”

“Sorry, did you say something?” you say, voice teasing. 

“I can still-“

“Nope.” You shoot him down cheerfully, the thrumming in your chest only affirming to your elevated state. Dick gives you a look. 

“You don’t know what I was gonna say.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you tell him, turning your head to kiss his shoulder. 

“It does to me,” he protests, frowning a little. You roll your eyes, turning and snuggling into him some more.

“Stop killing my buzz,” you demand, a stupid grin working it’s way onto your face. You feel Dick press a kiss against your hair.

“Yes ma’am.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey! I'm back! Its a very trying time right now all around the world, and with all the time I've had, I've been writing. Finally got a chapter out that I hope you'll enjoy, and I hope you're all staying safe at home.

When you were young and imagined love, you imagined it loud.

Loud arguments, yelling and cursing and the occasional shattering of a glass your mother threw. Those nights ended in one of two ways; hot and heavy sex, the kind your parents would have and you’d pretend you didn’t know, or silence. Silence that stretched to weeks and months until one of them had a bad night and then suddenly there was yelling again in your small cozy two-bedroom apartment you lived in with your mum because they needed each other. Despite all their issues, despite their differences, despite girlfriends and boyfriends and the scandals, your parents found their way back to each other. And despite all that you knew your parents loved you. You knew that.

And then a whirlwind of a week changed everything. In a week, your mum had decided to go back to school. A few hundred miles away. You weren’t terribly upset; after all, you would be living with your father. He took you to the circus at the end of that week.

One week.

By now you shouldn’t be surprised by how much your life could change in one week. 

You weren’t entirely sure what tipped you off. Your previously very physically demanding lifestyle still impacted your life- your periods were yet to become regular. You weren’t nauseous, you weren’t sore. You just felt… _different._ Perhaps your father’s training on how to pay attention to your body worked a little too well. 

A home test.

Then five home tests from five different brands.

Then a call to the doctor’s clinic. 

You already knew the result. You knew how, and why, and who.

It had been so long since you had been with anyone, you’d stopped taking birth control. And when you were with Dick, you had gotten so caught up in the moment-

“Both the urine sample and the ultrasound confirm that you are pregnant, Miss Wayne,” Dr. Thompkins tells you. You don't say a word, eyes trained on the photo. It was like a little bean. Dr. Thompkins reaches out to touch your hand, snapping you back to reality.

“Miss Wayne, I have to inform you that you have multiple routes to take, should you wish. Adoption and and an abortion are viable options, and your information will be kept private.”

“I know,” you reply, voice quiet. 

“You don’t have to decide now, you can come back at any time. But as of right now, I will schedule your next checkup in two weeks until you make your decision. Is that alright?”

A decision about your little bean.

You clear your throat, looking up and nodding. “Thank you, Dr. Thompkins.”

You stand to leave, but Leslie calls your name.

“My dear, if you need anyone to talk to, you can always give me a call.’

You nod again, giving her a tight-lipped smile before you leave.

You don’t notice the leaflet you’re clutching until you’re halfway out the door, so you just shove it in your purse and ignore it. 

——

It took you two hours before you finally went back to the leaflet. With a deep breath you began reading- reading on things you needed to know for an abortion. 

You had never thought you’d get an abortion, even if you had an unplanned pregnancy. But now…

You didn’t want to bring a child into a life that wasn’t stable. Your boss was heavily implying that you resign, your apartment building was shutting down in a few months, and the baby’s father wasn’t a man you could rely on. Not to stick around. 

You couldn’t raise a baby. Sure your father would help- _God, what would Bruce even say?_ It wasn’t exactly like he was in a position to judge, considering you had come along when he and Selina were teenagers, but you knew your father had dreamed of a normal life for you, of grandkids _after_ he had walked you down the aisle in a white dress. 

There was just too much to consider, and you couldn’t raise this baby. Ignoring the stinging behind your eyes and the burning pain in your throat, you tell yourself you’re going back to the clinic next week. 

And then there’s a knock on the door. 

You know it’s probably Mrs. Huchins, the sweet old lady who _always_ lost one of her cats. (Not that you minded the cats, you loved them.) Or the apartment manager, or a package delivery. And yet the sickening coil in your stomach doesn’t go away. Nevertheless, you open the door. 

“Hey, baby,” Dick grins, a lopsided grin all happy and charming. He looks good, you note. He’s put in effort, even if it was to try and look nonchalant, but he has on that cologne you loved on him and he has a bouquet in his other hand. 

You know where this is going and you hate it. 

Dick takes a step forward and ducks his head to kiss you, but you place a firm hand on his chest and turn your head away. He masks his hurt well, but can’t prevent his smile from dimming a little momentarily. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice strained and unsure. If Dick notices, he doesn’t comment on it. 

“Well,” Dick shrugs, his nerves becoming more obvious now. “I, uh, wanted to take my best girl out somewhere nice.” 

You don’t say anything and Dick begins to scramble to pick up the pieces of the crumbling conversation. You don’t want to hurt him, but you can't have him in your life either.

“Y’know, after you’ve nursed me back to health and all. Or we could-we could stay here, if you’re busy or don’t want to? I’ll be good, I can help around the house if you need-“

“I need you to leave me alone,” you say suddenly, and it hurts you so much to say those words, but clearly not as much as those words hurt Dick. 

He stares at you, confused, and hurt, but so confused. 

“I- what?”

“You need to leave,” you say, willing your voice to be stronger. 

“Why?”

“Because I want you to go!’

“You can’t pretend that there’s nothing here!” He says, suddenly angry. He looks up at you, eyes blazing.  
“That’s because I don’t have to pretend-”

“Bullshit!” Dick growls, flinging the bouquet down. He takes two steps forwards so that his chest is brushing yours. He grips your arms tightly, his eyes trying to search yours.

“What was it then? If this wasn’t back to where we were.”

“It was just sex, Dick-” You say bluntly, pushing him back. He scoffs incredulously, but you stand your ground, making your face expressionless, bored even.

“I know you. You’re not the type to do just sex-”

“Yeah, but here's the thing,” You say, anger beginning to seep into your own voice. “You _don't_ know me. You left.”

“I know and I’m sorry-”

“I don’t care!” _Lies._

“This wasn’t just sex.”

“It was.” _Lies._

“But I- I love you, okay?” He admits, hands reaching out to grab your face. He looks panicked, desperate, eyes shining with tears. You rip his hands off your face.

“I don't love you!” _Liar._

“I don’t even care about you! You were there and we had sex and it was great but you need to stop fucking up my life! I want you to fuck off and not come back!” _Liar, liar, pants on fire._

You risk glancing up at Dick, and your heart sinks. Dick’s face is somewhat blank, somewhat hurt, his eyes looking right through you. He opens his mouth to speak again, and you fix your gaze to the wallpaper.

“You don’t love me?”

“I don’t.” _Holy shit you were getting good at this lying thing._

And then he leaves. He doesn’t say anything else, just a quick nod and then he’s gone, taking the flowers and any evidence that he was ever back in your life at all.

Your fingers trace your abdomen.

Everything but your little bean.

\----

He had thought it was gonna go well. It had been three weeks now, and Dick wanted you to be his again. If he could, he’d get down on one knee and ask you to marry him again. He knew if he did that you’d probably never talk to him again.

So instead, he opted for that cologne that you loved on him, with his hair carefully tousled, and a bouquet in his hand. He was gonna ask you out, you’d say yes, and by year end he’d be asking you to marry him.

He knocks on the door, unable to help the stupid grin from forming on his face as sees you.

“Hey, baby,” he says, before leaning forward to give you a kiss. A hand on his chest stops him though, and he notices you turned your head away a little. Dick tries to play it off.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, and Dick hesitates. There’s something wrong, by the way you’re fidgeting ever so slightly. If he was anyone else he probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Batman had trained him to read all your tells. (Although to be honest, he knew most of your tells way before Batman made you two study each other.)

“Well,” Dick shrugs, shifting his feet in order to gain more confidence. “I, uh, wanted to take my best girl out somewhere nice.”

ANd then he starts rambling. He’s not entirely sure what he’s saying or what you’re saying but words get out of his mouth before he can stop them and his body is moving and he knows he’s fucked up.

“But I- I love you, okay?” Dick admits, hands reaching out to grab your face. Your eyes widen momentarily, before narrowing as you push him away.

“I don't love you!” It was funny how four words could hurt so much. “I don’t even care about you! You were there and we had sex and it was great but you need to stop fucking up my life! I want you to fuck off and not come back!” You spit, glaring at him. He knew it. You hated him.

But he risks breaking his heart even more with the next words he utters, because he needs to be sure, “You don’t love me?”

“I don’t.”

He grabbed the bouquet, jerked his head in what could have passed for a nod, and fled.

He didn’t stay long enough for you to see the tears that began to spill down his face. But Dick got into his car and drove. He drove and drove and drove, not caring that he was now out of Bludhaven and the person he was going to might not even be there. 

But she was. 

So as he knocked on that door that night, and as Kori invited him in, and as they kissed and removed clothes and let out the frustrations of their lives, a new voicemail was sent to Dick’s phone. A voicemail from you, telling him you were sorry, and that you were pregnant, and that you wanted him home.

Kori’s moans distracted him for the rest of the night though.

\----

When you were young, and imagined love, you imagined it loud.

Never quiet. 

You imagined it like fireworks, bursting into brightness and loudness and colour. Like a shattering glass, violent and loud and scary and irreversible.

You were wrong.

You fell in love with Dick Grayson quietly, as he did with you. It was the moments you trained together, the touches that lingered, the glances across the room, the way his heart would beat too loud in his ears when he couldn’t see you during a fight, the way you fretted over his injuries, even the self-inflicted one when he tried his hand at cooking. It was the smiles he gave you, how his favourite cereal was always topped up before it finished (it wasn’t Alfred- Alfred refused to buy Frosted Flakes and Froot Loops for a household where everyone was above the age of 12). It was the way he read your favourite books so that he knew what you were talking about, and how you suggested a visit to the circus every month.

As perfect as those moments were, the soft smiles, the glances, the giggles, they were a lifetime ago. You both grew older and wanted different things. You wanted a normal life, a family, maybe a dog. Dick instead chose the path of vigilante, of a man who was darker, more dangerous, a man who had changed.

And you loved him quietly still.

Maybe that was the issue. Maybe you fell apart because your love was quiet and soft and hidden. Maybe that was the problem from the very start. Maybe…

  
  
  
  


( Maybe it was over before it even started.)

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

If you were being quite honest with yourself, it had been a long day and you wanted a donut. You also really wanted your mother. So you decided to fulfil both your wishes. 

You don’t take your keys, wanting instead to walk to your mothers. You could pick up a donut for both of you at that little corner bakery run by Mrs. Rubio. 

You were surprisingly calm, you thought to yourself as you scrolled down the slowly darkening streets. When you got to the bakery, you waved at Mrs. Rubio, giving her a hug as she cooed over how big you had gotten since she had last seen you (two weeks ago). You gave her a smile, a genuine one, and even had a proper conversation with her before bidding adieu and going on your way. Your mother hadn’t moved out of the apartment for the 22 years you had been alive, because she (of all people) was nostalgic. She said that she watched you grow up in that tiny dingy two bedroom apartment that now felt more like home than the manor did. 

You rapped your knuckles against the door, rolling your weight back onto your heels. You could hear some shuffling before the door cracked open a little. A second later, the door was pushed right open and your disheveled mother grinned at you. 

“Hallo!” She said, surprised at your appearance. 

“Bad time?” You ask, giving her a half smile. “I brought donuts.”

“Well, how can I say no to that,” Selina replies, ushering you inside. You can tell she’s tried her hand at cooking again, with the state the kitchen is in. Your mother can cook, but only a few dishes. Anything that she didn’t need to know for your survival she couldn’t give a damn to learn about. Which made you wonder what was so special tonight. 

“Your father is dropping by later tonight,” she mentions, picking up the stack of letters left by the door.  _ That explained it.  _

“I wanted to talk to you, if you had the time.” You hop onto one of the barstools as your mother nods, grabbing two wine glasses and a bottle. She starts to pour the wine before she looks back at you. 

“What about?”

“I’m pregnant.” 

Your mother stiffens momentarily, eyes widening as she stared at you for a moment. She then nodded, putting the bottle down and pouring the contents of one glass into the other. 

“No wine for you then.”

You give her a half smile, fumbling with your fingers. 

“So who’s their father of my grandchild?” She asks, downing half her wine in one go. 

“Ma! That’s good wine!”

“So I’m drinking for the both of us! And answer my question, you’re not getting away with this.”

You’re silent for a long moment and your mother nods again. She goes to the fridge and pulls out a plate of half-eaten pizza before setting it down in front of you. You pick up a piece slowly, deliberating on whether to tell her or not. 

“Are you going to keep it?” Selina asks softly, after you’re halfway done with the slice. You shrug, fingers playing with the hem of your sweater as you sit there sullenly, feeling like a child again. 

“What’s making you consider it? Not that I’m opposed by the way, I’ll support you with your decision.”

“I know, ma.”

“So what’s the issue?”

You take in a deep breath, taking a bite of the pizza again. “It’s Dick.”

You had to give credit to your mother for trying to keep her poker face after you continuously tell her news she didn’t expect to hear. 

“Ah. How far along are you then?” 

“Four weeks.”

“Does the boy know,” she reaches for the wine bottle, pouring herself another glass. 

You take another bite of the pizza instead of answering her. 

“So, no.”

Another minute of silence goes by. 

“Do you want me to listen, get involved, or give advice?” She asked you after another long sip. 

“Maybe advice?” You whisper, fingers dancing along your belly. Your little bean was inside there. You had a little bean inside you. That bean was your responsibility. 

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I was 17 when I found out about you,” Selina said, taking a seat next to you. “I was young, I didn’t have a job, or a home, or a partner- Bruce had just left on his trip.”

You had heard this all before, but you listened again. You needed to hear what she had to say. 

“And I was going to abort you. Not because you weren’t planned or you weren’t wanted, but because I didn’t think I’d be able to give you the life you deserved.”

“You gave me one much better, ma,” you tell her, suddenly feeling very emotional. She smiles at you, taking your hand. 

“I didn’t want to tell Bruce, I thought he would try to stop me or he would get angry- or do something. Whatever that something was, I was scared. But I told him anyways,” she gives you a look. 

“He told me he would support me in my decision, and if I decided to keep you he would provide for all your expenses. He would give what we needed, because he knew I wouldn’t take money from him, but what he said was why I decided to keep you.”

“It’s not just money,” you tell her, fingers itching to reach for the wine. 

“I know,” she says. “It’s about him supporting you isn’t it? Being a father to your child?” 

And you start crying. You don’t know why (all though the rollercoaster of a day would explain it) but you can’t help yourself from letting out a sob, and having your mother pull you into her arms. 

You pull away after a moment, sniffling and trembling, but determination in your eyes. 

“I need to tell Dick,” you say, and your mother pats your hand. 

“Should I tell your father?” Selina asks as you grab your donut and your coat. 

“And ruin date night with the stress you know he’ll go through? I’ll tell him,” you reply, waving at her once more before leaving. You reach into your coat pocket and pull out your phone, dialling a number you had memorised long ago. 

It went to voicemail. 

“Dick,” your voice was trembling, breathy in the midst of the rapidly cooling night air. “Dick, I’m so sorry for what I said. I- I need to talk to you. It’s important? I don’t know if you’ll call me back but I’m pregnant, Dick. And I want you to come back. Please.”

You finish your message, a newfound confidence in your step as you ring up a different number. 

“Is this Dr. Thompkins’ clinic? I would like to confirm my checkup in two weeks.”

——

You fucked up. You fucked up  _ bad _ . You didn’t know if he was gonna hate you or never talk to you again and you were so fucking nervous because Dick had called you (when you were asleep) and left you a voicemail saying that he would be right over. So when the doorbell had woken you up about two hours after you fell asleep, you understandably were pissed. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are-“ you start, yanking open the door before you froze. Dick was standing there, dishevelled, looking a little exhausted, a little panicked and- what was that on his neck? It didn’t matter. 

“Oh,” you say after a moment, wanting to  _ die.  _

“You’re pregnant?” Was his response. 

“Oh,” you say again, running a hand over your face to wake yourself up.  _ Oh. Oh fuck.  _ “Uh, yeah, come in.”

“‘Uh, yeah, come in?’” Dick repeats incredulously, and suddenly you’re regretting sending him the voicemail for a whole new reason. Two seconds in your door and he was  _ already _ getting on your nerves. 

“What do you want me to say?” You snap, the thought of him saying he wanted nothing to do with it slowly eating you away inside. Your body seems to come alive with a newfound anxiety, and you’re gritting your teeth to keep your breathing even. Dick follows you into your kitchen, mouth agape, frowning. When he speaks again, his voice is strained from trying to keep and even tone. 

“Are-are you sure?”

“What do you mean ‘Are you sure’? Of course, I’m sure! I wouldn’t call you in the middle of the night if I wasn’t fucking sure!” You, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care so much about the volume of your words. 

“Don’t yell at me, it’s a valid question!” 

“Oh is it? If you had thought for just  _ one _ second before opening your mouth then you would have gotten your answer!”

“I still got my answer, didn’t I?” 

“I- why are we fighting?” You ask, voice dropping into barely a whisper. Dick let out a heavy sigh, dropping his head and linking his hands behind it. You play with your fingers, scared out of your mind as Dick sat on a barstool, thinking. What if he asked you to get rid of it? Of your little bean?

“Unlike _ you _ , I didn’t sleep with anyone else if that’s what you were thinking,” you say bitterly, angry that he might think that the baby wasn’t his. 

Dick’s head snaps up, eyes wide. He opens his mouth and then closes it, trying to figure out what to say. An apology, a denial, an acknowledgment? It didn’t matter to you ( _ it did) _ because who he slept with was his own business. Even though you were trying to ignore the fact that him having a damn  _ hickey _ on his neck hurt quite a bit. 

“I wasn’t implying that,” Dick settles on, his fingers curling and uncurling. “I just meant... are you sure you’re pregnant? Not if I was- not if I was the father. I didn’t doubt that.”

You hesitate, unsure of what to do next. You settle on a decision, retreating into your room, grabbing the ultrasound and the test results. You pass them both to Dick who had once again followed you. 

Dick barely spared a glance at the results, sitting heavily on your bed with his eyes glued onto the picture. 

“That’s a four week picture. The odds of my getting pregnant that first night was low but possible so…” you trail off at his silence. Dick still says nothing, so you decide to continue. 

“The circle thingy there is a sac that has cells that will eventually make the baby along with the placenta and the amniotic sac. I have another-“

“That’s our baby?” Dick finally whispers, his fingers trailing delicately over the picture. You almost stop breathing when he speaks, his voice full of emotion that you didn’t want to identify. You find your own hand moving to rest on your still flat belly, over your little bean. 

“It’s going to be,” you reply, your heart thrumming in your chest. After what seems like a lifetime, Dick looks away from the picture and to you, with an intensity in his eyes that makes your chest hurt. He stands and takes two long strides towards you, one of his arms going around your waist while the other hand moves up to stroke your cheek. You close your eyes, leaning into his palm as he pressed you close to him. He rested his forehead against yours, his own eyes closing as his thumb continued its back and forth motion. The world seems to move deliciously slowly around you, the seconds feeling like minutes, and then actually becoming minutes, but you didn’t care. Any fears or doubts or any inkling of reservations you had left in the instant Dick pulled you in for a hug. He wanted the baby too. He was going to be a part of the baby’s life. And that’s all that mattered. 

“Four weeks?” He repeated, and you hum in agreement. He seemed to hold you even closer, so you shifted to press your face into his neck. His hand moved from your cheek and his arm wrapped around you, pressing you against him. With a shuddering breath, he pressed his lips to your shoulder. 

“We’re gonna have a baby,” he murmured, awe evident in his voice. You couldn’t stop a smile from working it’s way into your face upon hearing his voice. Everything just felt so right, in that moment, while you were in his arms. Your previous argument was forgotten as the two of you held each other, seeking… seeking what exactly? It didn’t matter.

You pull away after a moment, feeling too lazy to continue standing. You take your donut, offering half to Dick as you settle into the couch. He sits beside you, slinging his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. You snuggle into his side, nibbling on your half donut to make it last. You feel Dick press his face against your hair, giving you a few kisses. 

“I can’t wait to have a baby with you,” he says as he pulls your legs over his own. A silly grin makes its way into your face and you try to calm your rapidly beating heart. 

“‘Ve always wanted a girl,” he says after another moment. “What if it’s a boy?” You retort, licking the remaining sugar off your fingers. Dick shrugs. “I’ll love em all the same, but I think it’s a girl.”

You scoff as he kisses your jaw, a mischievous glint in his eye. His lips drag upwards and press against the spot just below your ear, and you close your eyes. He presses his lips to your skin again, and again, and again, and you take a shuddering breath as his hold on you tightens.

“Was… was it Dawn?” You ask after a moment.

“Huh?”

“Or Zatanna?”

Dick straightens up and holds your gaze for a moment. “It was Kory.”

“Kory,” you nod, picking off a little of his half of his donut. “How is she doing? Haven’t spoken to her in awhile.”

“I, uh, didn’t stick around long enough to ask,” he admits.

“That a habit of yours? You not sticking around?”

“I’m going to stay,” he promises, and you remain silent. “I swear to you, I’m going to stay.”

“Rude,” you say as he moves his donut out of your reach. You continue reaching for the donut as he moves his arm to block you. 

“No-”

“Stop its mine-”

“You're not having any!”   
“No-oof-stoppit-”

You make a grab for the donut and Dick flings it away, pushing you down on the sofa. WIth a grunt, you try to wiggle out of his grasp as he tries to get you to stay still. 

“Let me goooo!” You wail loudly, not making it easy for him. He huffs out a laugh, finally grabbing your wrists and pushing them to rest on either side of your head.

Your laughter dies in your throat, smile easing into barely a curve of your lips. Dick hovers above you for a moment, his eyes searching yours. He lowers his head slightly and a small part of you is scared he’s going to kiss you. Then he grins, straightening and pulling you up with him. You huff out a laugh, shoving at his chest as he clambers off the sofa to retrieve the lost donut.

“Dick?” You call after a moment, taking a deep breath. He hums in response, rounding the corner. “Dick we need to talk.”

“Uh oh, am I in trouble?” He grinned, reaching out towards you. 

“Dick we can’t-  _ I cant _ be with you…” you start, and the playful smirk on Dick’s face drops. His entire posture changes, he straightens and stiffens, and you can practically see his defences slam back up. He clears his throat roughly and nods. 

“Alright. Let’s talk.”


End file.
